


Latte Art

by headphonesftw



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: College AU kinda, F/F, M/M, coffee shop AU, this is really cliche but I don't care at this point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 13:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5092838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headphonesftw/pseuds/headphonesftw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t even like coffee, so why does he keep visiting that new café in Shibuya?  Oh yeah, it’s because Shiki keeps dragging him there.  Yeah, it totally has nothing to do with a snarky yet flirty barista, no way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Latte Art

**Author's Note:**

> Did someone ask for a totally over done cliche AU? No? Well, here you go anyway! I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it, and if you have any helpful criticism, please tell me!

I don’t get people. Never have, never will. Humans are such a mystery, like a book written in a foreign language that I have yet to learn. Other people however, they seem to be fluent in this language, and their mastery is admirable. Sometimes I wish I could learn this foreign language, if only so I could understand the people who are dear to me.

But most of the time, I couldn’t care less. It’s only when Shiki or Beat are being weird that I feel this need to understand why they do the stupid harebrain shit they do.

Like today for instance, Shiki is literally dragging me off to some “hip new” coffee shop. I tried resisting, honestly, but I’m not going to use physical force against her, and Shiki is far too gone for any of my opposing words to reach her.

So here I am, being dragged around the streets of Shibuya like an unwilling boyfriend with his shopaholic girlfriend.  
…..Which is actually 66% accurate for describing mine and Shiki’s relationship. You know, aside from the boyfriend/girlfriend thing. Yeah, we aren’t dating. But I am very unwilling and Shiki is indeed a shopaholic, even if she continuously denies it. The saying goes though, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.

This time though, we aren’t on a shopping trip. No, this time, we’re going to a coffee shop. Apparently some new café opened up on Cat Street, not too far from the university. Frankly, I don’t give a damn about cafes, mainly because I hate coffee to the point that the smell of the foul stuff makes me sick to my stomach. 

But nope, Shiki doesn’t care about that—the short brunette insists on dragging me to the wretched place, blabbering about how Beat is going to start working there next week and how the place has quickly become popular overnight. Not that I care about any of that—well, aside from how Beat is going to start working there. Hopefully the addition of this second job won’t put too much stress on him…But yeah, I don’t care about some hip café that just sounds like an over-used cliché, one that Shiki totally digs. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if Shiki is secretly dreaming of meeting some prince-charming guy that will sweep her off her feet. Not that I don’t want her to not have that desire…but it just sounds really cheesy.

The ringing of a bell jerked me out of my thoughts as we finally arrived at the café. Once we stepped inside the warm building, Shiki released my arm and immediately approached the counter, greeting the female barista that was working. Is her…is her hair pink? Who the hell dyes their hair in such atrocious colors these days? Granted, I’m often asked if my hair is dyed, but my orange hair is 100% natural, thank you very much. 

With Shiki distracted, I decide to find a table in the farthest corner of the shop, anywhere away from this horrid stench. I already had to cover my mouth and nose with my shirt collar to make sure I don’t literally get sick. It worked to a certain degree, but the more I stayed away from the center of this café, the better.

Thankfully, a booth by the window in the front corner was empty, so I slid in there, placing my bag on the seat and taking off my coat. At least this place was toasty compared to the bitter winds outside…

Not long after I settled down in my seat, Shiki rejoined me, slipping into the booth seat across from me. She was grinning widely as she removed her own coat and scarf, but I couldn’t return the smile. This place reeked….

“Isn’t this place cool Neku?” Shiki asked, glancing back over her shoulder, probably at the barista. “And it’s so close to the school too! It’s convenient, don’t you think?”

That earned her a shrug from me as I try to pull my collar up even more over my mouth, which in return she gave me an exasperated sigh.

“Seriously, Neku! Stop acting like the air here is poisonous! What are you going to do when my mocha gets here?” Shiki looks annoyed now, but she has never understood my intense aversion to coffee.

“Probably hide in the bathroom until you’re done,” I told her honestly. If her drink smells that strongly of coffee, I will probably have to leave to avoid getting actually sick. I don’t understand why she doesn’t understand my dislike for the stuff—I mean, we’re all allowed to have our particular tastes and hates? She’s always on my ass about my love for chicken nuggets, saying that it’s unhealthy and tastes like cardboard. Like, excuse you, chicken nuggets are amazing and they don’t taste like cardboard!

Shiki rolls her eyes at my response, crossing her arms over her chest in a huff. “Geez, you’re so dramatic!”

“That’s just how I am, deal with it.” To most people, that would probably sound harsh, but Shiki knows me rather well by now to not stomp away in anger. She simply rolled her eyes again, but before she could find some way to ‘reprimand’ me, her name was called out by the female barista.

“Oh, that was fast!” With her smile back on her face, Shiki left the table to retrieve her drink, staying to chat with the pink-haired barista at the register. I observe the girls, my small smile hidden behind my collar. 

 

Even though I’ve only known her for a little over a year, Shiki is one of my two best friends, one that I don’t want to ever lose. I can remember how shy and soft-spoken she was during our first year of college, always unsure of herself. It actually took her a month to approach me during one of our shared classes to see if we could perhaps study together. I will admit though, I wasn’t exactly one of the most approachable guys last year (though that hasn’t really changed this year either), but it took her a while to come out of her shell. Many things happened last year—some good and some bad—but I’m proud of her now. The Shiki from last year wouldn’t have had the nerve to drag me to some coffee shop after my first ‘no,’ nor would she be chatting with some stranger so casually like she’s doing right at the moment.

 

I was once against broken away from my thoughts when something dark moved in between me and my sight of Shiki. Looking up, I saw that I was approached by a guy around the same age as me wearing a black apron. Already this kid has snagged my attention—are those purple eye contacts? And is his hair actually silver? 

“Hi, may I take your order?” Hm, this guy’s voice…sounds snarky. This guy’s face looks snarky as well, I can just tell it. Even the posture—snarky. 

“Do you guys have hot chocolates here?” I asked, speaking up so I can be heard from behind my collar. A hot chocolate is safe, seeing as that’s probably the only warm drink that I can stomach in this café. 

“We do!” the silver-haired guy replied, his voice almost singsongy. “Is that what you would like to order?”

I simply answer him with a nod, and after a quick scribble on his notepad, the guy leaves, going behind the counter and into the back, out of sight. What is it with baristas dying their hair such weird colors? I’ll never understand…

 

Shiki returned to the table shortly after with a drink in hand. I was personally grateful that the cup had a lid on it since it masked most of the coffee smell. 

“You’re missing out,” she told me after she tasted her mocha, humming in pleasure. “It’s delicious!”

“If you say so,” I mutter, letting go of my collar and letting the fabric fall back into its original place. The smell was still there, but I’ve adapted to it enough to gain a temporary tolerance. 

“And the staff here is so nice too,” Shiki continued as she begins to ramble about the pretty barista behind the register. Apparently the pink-haired girl complimented Shiki’s clothes, and they began talking about the current trends around Shibuya. I can this girl becoming a good friend of Shiki’s if they continue this kind of conversing. 

 

Movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention, and once again the male barista was at our table, setting down a lidded-cup in front of me. 

“One hot chocolate for you, dear,” he says with a smirk. “Will that be all?”

 

Oh, that smirk just screams asshole. Yeah, I am 100% confident that this guy is snarky.  
“No thanks,” I tell him, not picking up the hot chocolate yet; I’ll drink it once it cools down a little bit.

The barista giggles—what kind of dude giggles?—as he gives me a mock salute. “Well, I do hope you enjoy it dear, it was made with love!”  
…..What?  
Before I can retort back, the guy is gone as quick as he came, already back behind the counter. I shoot him a glare. He replies with a wink. What the hell?!

 

Shiki’s giggle causes me to look over her way, and there she is, covering a laugh behind her hand. 

“What the hell is so funny?” I snap, turning my gaze away to look out the window.

“Oh nothing,” Shiki responds, “it’s just funny to see you get flustered.”

“I am not flustered!” My head whirls back around to her, and now I’m glaring at her. The glare has no effect.

“You totally are!” she insists, sipping at her horrible drink. “I’ve never seen you get hit on by anyone before!”

“Shut it,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “That guy is a weirdo, I don’t know what he was doing.”

“Mhm, sure,” Shiki replies, “and I’m a fan of Mus Rattus. Yeah, that guy was hitting on you. You should definitely get his number, he’s pretty cute.”

“Hell no!” I could feel my face heating up, so I pull my collar back up in a futile attempt to hide the redness. 

My friend giggles again as she playfully kicks me under the table. “If you say so.”  
I sneak a glance over at the café counter, and thankfully the silver-haired guy was busy making someone else’s order. 

 

This is your entire fault. I am never coming back here again.


End file.
